You speak to the brides
through the cold thin air
of treason,
betraying them by your
constant leaving.
And each white woman
accepts your sport
as love,
the winnings returned
ten times over.
The golden cup you drink from
whispers 'victory'
over virginal evasiveness;
the shy advances of
a woman child;
the desperate moods of
a dancer;
the forgotten passions of
a sister.
You betray each one
and leave them
so complete.
mimi brown
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/constant-leaving/
